


Hold It Sacred

by cptsdstars



Series: Some Kind of Holy Word [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Catholicism, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, No Spoilers, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsdstars/pseuds/cptsdstars
Summary: “I want you to get on your knees for him,” Abigail breathes into the space between their lips and Arthur tenses underneath John.“God, Abigail.” Arthur mutters, and Abigail smiles wildly.Thou shalt not take the Lord God’s name in vain; John hears in the back of his mind. He ignores it in favor of rolling his hips against Arthur’s just to hear him say it again.





	Hold It Sacred

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware I wrote this on Christmas Eve... I know

John was never a religious man. 

The day after his 8th birthday, the police officer who dragged his lifeless father off of the bed in their house dropped him off at the front steps of a cathedral in Calumet City. 

“They’ll take good care of you, boy”

John didn’t have the sense to ask who. 

What followed was a re-education John never asked for. Hymns and prayers and Psalms John didn’t know how and didn’t care to learn to read, lessons about a father he never asked for who sent his son to die for him and only him. 

“Sounds like a shitty dad,” John had said before getting smacked. 

He also learned the Ten Commandments, a ten step guideline on how to sin better than any of the priests he was warned to stay away from. 

The night he ran away and never looked back was the last time he had ever stepped foot in a church. 

Now, in the dark and in the cold, holding on to Abigail’s hand, he steps into an abandoned one. All traces of something once holy are now rotted away at his feet. 

Abigail pulls him inside and out of the winter wind and Arthur steps in behind him pulling the big door shut. They shut with a crash, and with it, the sound of the howling wind outside disappears behind them. 

Arthur strikes a match on the bottom of his shoe and leans past John to light the lantern in Abigail’s other hand. Soft light dances around the three of them and Abigail breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I guess this is as good of a place as any,” Arthur says, rubbing his gloved hands together, “Sorry it ain’t a beautiful hotel or anything.” 

Abigail lets go of John’s hand to pull the bag off of her shoulder. “Like I’ve ever had any sort of luxury in my life, Arthur Morgan.” 

“You sure we ain’t been followed?” John asks, grabbing the lantern from Abigail while she unpacks the bag. 

“I’m sure,” Arthur says. “Besides, everyone’s too drunk or too stupid right now to wonder what we three fools could get up to in the dark.”

“Ain’t no one will notice we’re even gone.” Abigail smiles and sits down on the blanket she spread out in the middle of the wooden floor. 

Arthur and John follow suit, shrugging off their coats and laying them on the pews beside them. 

John can’t really see much of the church; the lantern barely illuminates Arthur’s and Abigail’s faces in front of him. He can see the slight outline of a pulpit behind Abigail, and what he thinks is a painting of the Virgin Mary, arms outstretched above Abigail’s messy hair. 

“I ain’t never been in a church before.” Abigail says, looking up to the ceiling, “Not really the type of place for a girl like me.” 

John toes off his boots and sets them away, before resting his legs on top of Abigail’s. Without looking away from the rotting ceiling, she rests her cold hand on his thigh. 

John looks at Arthur, who’s staring at him from the other side of the blanket. 

“You got something to say or are you just having fun staring?” John says. It comes out harsher than he means it to. 

Arthur doesn’t mind. He chuckles deep in his throat, the kind that makes butterflies rise in John’s stomach, “I’m just wonderin how I got so lucky.” 

Abigail looks away from the ceiling then. Her eyes rest on Arthur and she smiles. “We could say the same thing about you.”

Arthur looks away then. He drops his head to his lap, a smile creeping at the edge of his lips. 

The last time John was in a church a boy a few years older than him had cried out to him. Bleeding and sobbing he demanded that John take him with for he couldn’t bear to be trapped here any longer. John thought back to the commandments the nun had made him recite; _thou shalt not kill._

John refused and knew he might as well have killed that boy himself. 

“Well boys,” Abigail sings, ripping John violently out of his thoughts, “are we gonna do this or not? I’d like to wake up at a decent hour tomorrow.” 

Arthur’s face flushes red as he snaps his head up to look at Abigail. She smiles brightly at him and leans back on her hands, wiggles her feet like she’s impatient. 

John leans over, places one of his hands on the floor next to the opposite side of her hip and runs his lips up her neck. Her head falls back and her breathing becomes uneven under his lips. He presses down on the little spot where he can feel her heart race and breathes in the smell of his Abigail. 

But he shares now, she’s Arthur’s too. After weeks and weeks of convincing and pulling and prodding Arthur finally gave in. He kisses both Abigail and John now with all the hunger of a man who’s confident in what he needs. And he’d said, he’d begged, he needed both of them. 

John won’t ever forget his face when they brought it up to him, the innocent way his lips parted, the way he looked like he was going to lose his balance, the soft little _what do you mean you both want me._

_Thou shalt not commit adultery._

It’s only adultery if someone gets hurt, John thinks. 

John pulls away from Abigail, catches his breath and looks at Arthur in the dim light. He’s watching them intently, eyes blown wide. Abigail shoves John a little towards Arthur, and John complies with a small laugh. He crawls a little ways on the blanket until he’s sitting on Arthur’s lap, holding his rough face in his hands. 

Arthur breathes out, looks up at John with all the love in his heart and John can’t do anything but kiss the poor fool. 

He’s different from Abigail--not in a bad way. He has different angles, a rougher kiss, his stubble tickles John’s lips as he licks into Arthur’s mouth. John finds himself leaning into Arthur to get closer to him, rocking his hips against resistance, not close enough. Arthur moans into his mouth; his hands grab at the cloth of John’s shirt, pulling desperately. 

Abigail laughs behind John, her hand coming from somewhere on his right side to pull his hair gently, pulling him away from Arthur’s lips. 

“Slow down, cowboys,” she says. “You have all night.” 

John turns to kiss her lips, his hands resting on Arthur’s shoulders. He can hear Arthur’s breathing go ragged as he watches them kiss with all the experience they have together. 

Abigail pulls John’s hair again. He sighs into the painful pleasure of it. 

“I want you to get on your knees for him,” Abigail breathes into the space between their lips and Arthur tenses underneath John. 

“God, Abigail.” Arthur mutters, and Abigail smiles wildly. 

_Thou shalt not take the Lord God’s name in vain_ ; John hears in the back of his mind. He ignores it in favor of rolling his hips against Arthur’s just to hear him say it again.

Arthur instead hisses through his teeth and shoves John off his lap. John lands basically in Abigail’s arms, suddenly realising she’s down only to her underclothes. Before he can turn around to get a good look, Abigail kisses harshly down the length of his neck, nipping gently at the softer skin only to gently kiss the pain away. 

John watches helplessly, Abigail licking his neck, as Arthur stands, shoves his pants around his ankles and exposes his hard length. 

John reaches up, threads his hand through Abigail’s dark hair and pushes her head up and away from his neck, forcing her to look up at Arthur. Arthur stands, mouth parted, stroking his cock lazily as he watches the two of them hold each other on the floor. Abigail inhales sharply at the sight. John can feel her heart racing through the shirt on his back. 

“Go on, John.” Abigail whispers. 

John slowly sits up on his knees, moves his hands up to hold Arthur’s hips still. He kisses the tip of Arthur’s cock gently and Arthur laughs again, deep in his chest, before John takes as much as he can into his mouth. 

Arthur moans, deep and loud, uncaring of the snowstorm outside, or even the camp less than a half mile down the road. His world is only John and his mouth, and John’s entire world is Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. 

John loses himself in the rhythm he sets, every twitch every thrust from Arthur feels like an earthquake in his bones. He vaguely registers Abigail, laying on her back out of the corner of his eyes, touching between her legs, watching her boys sin more than she ever did working as a whore. 

_Thou shalt have no other gods before me._

He loses himself in the rhythm of Arthur’s moans, accompanied by soft gasps from the woman he loves so much. This is his world: everything he’s ever wanted or needed lies in this abandoned church, losing itself to sinful pleasure. 

John sits on his knees in a church for the first time in his life, and he sins. 

John’s never been a religious man. But he thinks, in this moment tucked away from the rest of the world, he knows now what heaven is like.


End file.
